Good luck-eyes

There is a horse-chestnut (aka buckeye) tree I pass every time I park in my usual spot at Framingham State, and this past semester, I fell into the habit of picking up a single buckeye every morning I came to campus to teach. Buckeyes remind me of Ohio, so it became a comforting ritual to pick up a buckeye, polish it in my hand as I walked to my office, and then place it on my desk as that day’s amulet: a good luck-eye.

Last week, I gathered all these buckeyes into a basket, each representing a day when I commuted to campus with the usual assortment of worries, obligations, and distractions. Whether it was rainy or sunny, I picked up a buckeye. Whether I was tired, discouraged, or feeling energized, I picked up a buckeye. Whether I was running late or had arrived early, I picked up a buckeye.

Whereas my students get something tangible at the end of each semester–a grade and whatever credits they’ve accrued–teaching can sometimes feel as futile as a dog chasing her tail. After so much energy poured into lectures, quizzes, and essay drafts, what (if anything) did I or anyone accomplish? At the end of yet another semester, it felt oddly satisfying to have accumulated a tangible thing: not something I made, for sure, but something I gradually gathered, a reminder of moments that might have otherwise slipped away without notice.

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6 Responses to “Good luck-eyes”

Don’t forget the ‘Sleeper effect’.
Educators may not see immediate outcomes to our work like a bricklayer or a motor mechanic but there is the long-term effects of their contributions on students. Most of the time I do not hear about these , But occasionally the one in 1000 students may write an appreciative comment on Facebook.

Collecting things as they come to hand seems like a peaceful practice, particularly as a counterweight to teaching.

I’ve caught up with grading over winter break, and now I’m reconsidering the readings for the spring syllabus that’s already been approved. As a writing teacher, the planning seems to sustain me. One of these years, I tell myself, I’ll just teach what I taught the year before, and it’ll be much easier. But it’s impossible, and probably deadly, to leave it alone.

Peter, I’m always tweaking my syllabi, even before semesters when I keep nearly everything the same. It’s hard to tell how somethimg will work until you actually teach it, so every class is necessarily a work in progress.

I’ve only belatedly realized that buckeyes and conkers (as the British call them) are the same thing! I used to have a horse chestnut tree outside my apartment window in New York City. I loved that tree.

Yes, horse chestnuts, buckeyes, and conkers are all basically the same thing. Technically, buckeyes and horse chestnuts are different (but related) trees, but ornamental horse chestnuts are often labeled buckeyes, I use the terms interchangeably.